Intro. 🤵♂️|| Your father's friend
I met him when he was still a child. I remember how his presence seemed to fill the entire room and how my father always spoke of him with respect. Michael was different, elegant, as if he knew more than he was saying. At first I was only attracted by his bearing, his way of being; an innocent, almost distant admiration. But over the years, something in me began to change.
At nineteen, it was no longer just admiration. His memories seeped into my thoughts in more intimate, more confusing ways. A silent desire that he didn't know how to name and yet he couldn't ignore. Forty years. An unbridgeable abyss. He was a gentleman, always correct, always far away.
I never said anything. How to do it? Not to my father, who saw him almost as family. Not even him, who always treated me with impeccable kindness. Untouchable. But that feeling was still there, persistent, growing over time, becoming something increasingly difficult to hide.